The Thirty-Fifth Chapter
First, it was Cyrill who was framed for a murder. Then Rozelyn.
‘What’s going on in this world? Why do people keep blaming other people for the heinous crime of their own?!’
These were the words she thought as she was being escorted towards outside the police station by Milah.
Milah is Ezra’s wife and an Irish detective who graduated at the University of Dublin. Truly, when you have a family member who’s proficient in dealing with the law and taking legal actions, you can achieve justice and make yourself innocent—whether you’re truly innocent or just pretending to be one.
“Are you okay, dear?” Milah asked her as she looked quivering even from a distance.
“Yes,” she answered candidly and without any emotion. Even for a vampire like her, she was shocked from the very moment the police called her from the phone and was invited for interrogation. She had a solid alibi, aside from the fact that she was also unconscious during the duration of that murder. With Milah’s help, she was further proved innocent.
‘I definitely know who did this crime again!’ She thought while bathing in the morning sun.
“Here we are, darling. Be careful next time to whom you gave your mobile number,” Milah reminded.
“She’s my favorite teacher. I guess it was a stroke of bad luck that I was framed for a murder. Or perhaps…”
“Or perhaps what dear?”
Rozelyn shook her head in answer. “Never mind, Milah!”
But Milah knew she had something else in her mind.
“Alright. Just take care of yourself, okay?”
Rozelyn nodded. But deep in her thoughts, she had whispered inside her mind that someone is setting her up; blaming her for these brutal crimes so that she may yield or perhaps she has something that this unlawful person wants.
Cyrill spotted her from a distance and immediately sprinted towards her to give her a hug.
“I thought I’ve lost you again!” He exclaimed after giving her a hug.
Rozelyn frowned in confusion. “Huh?”
Cyrill’s eyes widened after accidentally dropping those words.
“Uh-uhm…I-I meant that perhaps you’ll lost this time and be sent to jail for a time.” He then gave her a sheepish smile.
“Oh! Don’t worry; Milah is here to be my knight in a glinting leather jacket.”
Milah bursted into a laugh. “Well, I will now leave you two to catch up!”
Rozelyn’s answer was her signature sweet smile. “Of course.”
When she returned her gaze to Cyrill, he was staring at her the way she never saw before.
“What?” It was all she could mutter.
“You’re beautiful.”
Redness stained her cheeks; she was blushing in shyness and subtle romantic effect to the words of Cyrill that he just spit out.
“Thank you.” She gave her thanks in their native language, in Gaelic.
Cyrill then averted his eyes from Rozelyn when Romaine appeared from behind.
“It’s good to know that you’re proven innocent.”
Rozelyn just gave her stepmom a simple smile that does not really reach her eyes.
“Do you know who’s been trying to rip apart our family?” Romaine added.
She didn’t answer; probably because the person she thought of was not really guilty as she doesn’t have solid evidence yet.
“Let’s go home now, Romaine. Cyrill.” Rozelyn then headed to their navy blue Sedan as soon as she was able to spit out those words.
Romaine and Cyrill looked at each other; heads shaking as if they, too, had an inch of idea who the perpetrator might be.
Rozelyn was a few steps away from the car when a police officer approached her.
“We sincerely apologize, Ms. Zadzisai. It was because your number was found in the victim’s so we immediately invited you to the police station for interrogation.” The police’s voice was stern but calm as he stretched out his hand for a shake.
“I understand,” Rozelyn stated as she accepted the handshake with her right hand.
“It was confirmed: the death was declared as an accident caused by an animal attack—probably a bear or a wolf as winter is nearing and those wild animals have perhaps spotted Ms. Hestia, resulting in her to be carrion.”
She just gave him a tight nod and watched the police walk away.
Romaine and Cyrill were already inside the car. “We heard everything,” Romaine declared.
“Good.” It was all Rozelyn managed to say and then waved a hand to Cyrill to drive home now.
***
“Are you sure the plan has worked?” Ludwig asked between his cigarette smoking session.
“Certainly.” Maebh’s eyes are focused straight; she was looking at something, someone a hundred miles away. She can only see the back of the officer and the glinting hair of the Amalgam, the one who they thought first was nothing more than a vampling.
“I always execute a plan smoothly and surely,” she murmured.
A kiss is a fuel for a half-heathen like Maebh Aisling Mullin, and so she gave the lover at her side a passionate one.
***
Dorrien wasn’t sure why he’s the one sent by Avril to investigate here in Surrey, England.
He could smell the wrongness in the air. Something was definitely not right.
He continued to walk forward, looking for the owner of that peculiar smell.
‘It certainly is not a vampire or a werewolf…’ Dorrien thought.
He inched closer to a nearby tree when his eyes caught a figure moving from a distance. It was a woman.
She was wearing red in a monochrome manner. From head to toe, she was a shining vibrant red. Not to mention that her hair was the color of autumn—auburn.
The beautiful woman was facing her back towards him; looking wholly mysterious.
But the shape of her body…it was something he constantly sees in Shamrock.
Yet, there was another female figure. Her hair was identical to the all-red lady. The only difference is that this woman was in all black apparel.
Black and red—those ladies might be indulged in something; in a serious discussion, to be precise. He spotted the head of a fallen English werewolf spiked in a long iron spear situated at the middle—in between the black lady and the red lady.
“I have missed you, daughter,” the lady in black muttered. Dorrien could clearly hear due to his werewolf senses but not vividly see as he was a few feet away from those creatures.
‘Damn, Avril! Why am I the only one sent on this mission?!’ He thought to himself, barking random cursed words for being the only one assigned to this task against the fact that there were many of them—a dozen of them—in the heart of the dark forest. One versus more than a dozen mysterious creatures—pretty much a gamble of life; their lives, his immortal life.
Dorrien popped out his head again from the tree in order to see what was going on. He was about to hide himself in the shadows again when one of the black-cloaked people spotted him and pointed in his direction.
“Shit!” He exclaimed softly. Without hesitation, he sprinted away from this damn forest as fast as he could. He tried to hold out his phone to call Avril when he saw through the phone’s reflection the face of the black and red lady and those black-clothed people.
His mind could be tricking him. Dorrien continued running as he knew the black lady, the lady in red, and the black-clothed people were chasing after him.
Dorrien looked at his phone again and he swore what he saw earlier was important and unbelievable. The two ladies’ faces were now covered with black glittery mask but he knew what he saw earlier.
The faces—he knew those faces. He had met those faces several times back in Shamrock, Ireland.
His mind was telling him that this was real; what he saw was real. But, his subconscious was telling him that maybe the heathens are just playing with his mind, showing him faces that he knew he’d recognized. Damn, those witches, heathens, whatsoever they were called, are one hell of a shrewd and cunning folks.
He can’t wait to report this to Avril.
He reached the road, finally.
Dorrien was still running when a huge car bumped into him in the middle of the road, rendering him unconscious.
He opened his eyes and everything was blurry. He saw the two mysterious ladies and the cloaked people surrounding him and he scowled. He tried to stand, as if there was still enough sliver of strength left in his system.
His smell caught a bizarre smell; something that he only once smelled. His mind was able to recall that it was from a plant called a jimsonweed.
‘Freak! Jimsonweeds are one hell of a dangerous plant...’
Dorrien blinked once more and this time there was only one person standing. It was his alpha, Avril Arke.
He prayed that this was real; that this wasn’t an illusion caused by those black-and-red-clothed heathens. He hoped and prayed to any God or divine forces listening that his alpha was indeed here to rescue him.
His sight was now less cloudy as he beheld the face of Avril Arke. But the question in Dorrien’s mind kept shrieking at him—was he really Avril Arke or just an Avril through illusion?
